“No I haven’t!” answered Cranny, almost fiercely. Then for fully five minutes his brow remained clouded as disturbing thoughts ran through his mind.
“There’s one word I’ll never forget, and that’s Gringo,” laughed Dick. He glanced around with a cheerful grin, to survey a small group of frankly hostile boys.
“Nor I,” said Bob, “but if we don’t run up against anything worse than that, I’ll be satisfied.”
Following a number of twisting streets, they slowly retraced their steps to the hotel where Professor Kent and his assistant were anxiously awaiting their appearance.
“Thank goodness, you’ve come at last,” exclaimed the latter. “Hungry! Why, boys—I’m getting almost as big an appetite as that stout historian of yours.”
It didn’t take long for them to gather around a table in the patio, this time full of a noisy, jabbering crowd. Then, after another spicy and highly seasoned meal which was lingered over in the same leisurely manner which characterized the Mexicans near by, they strolled out on the veranda.
The moon from an unbroken expanse of greenish gray poured a flood of light over gaily chattering throngs. In and out of the shadows cast by the mulberry trees they ceaselessly marched, and among them were laughing, dark-eyed señoritas and Federal soldiers whose uniforms added touches of color to the scene.
It all made a very entrancing picture; for neither the moonlight nor the brighter glare from the electric lamps was sufficiently strong to reveal the crudeness on all sides so evident in the hot cruel glare of the day.
And now over the languorous air, filled with the scene of flowers and shrubs, came the soft strains of music, catchy, inspiring. Many a foot beat time, and many a couple, light-hearted and laughing, danced near the mulberry trees.
“Ah, this is simply great,” declared Cranny, with a sigh of pleasure, “and yet——” he paused.